Chapter 4

~o~

Trailing after them, John Connor was able to keep the twins within his sights only due to one thing: the two were destroying every machine in their path. It didn't matter if the robots were meandering passively around, they still ended them with their swords. They displayed higher physical abilities than what human beings should be capable of, and perhaps in another lifetime, this would be off-putting. However, there have been several successful initiatives that pushed humans into becoming super soldiers with varying levels of success. The child soldiers of the Hamelin Organization—Kyle Reese in particular after he rescued him from the organization—were able to perform acrobatic feats and use melee weapons like swords and spears to a ridiculous capacity despite their youth, though not to the extent of these twins. However, if the war with Legion carried on, it wasn't hard to imagine a type of evolution—maybe natural selections—that could produce descendants with far greater physical abilities.

The war with the Legion had sapped the world's population. At the time, for whatever reason, it had been proven that teenagers could be used to battle against the Legion. Lives of fifteen years were far more disposable than veterans of forty years. It wasn't hard for people to come to the conclusion that a generation of young soldiers, bred for war, would be the stopgap answer to the problem. As long as it didn't affect their own children, of course.

Hypocrites.

The redheaded girl with straight hair sliced through the machine with the sword held in her left hand while the wild-maned girl stabbed into another machine with the blade in her right hand. They mirrored each other in more ways than just appearance alone, complementing each other as they commenced their deadly dance. Each swing of their swords—blocky serrated blades that should not have been able to cut—no, sliced through the robots with contemptuous ease. The friction from metal ripping through metal left a trail of yellow superheated metal in their wake. The way they completed each strike through the machines without any hitch or sign of resistance spoke of their unnatural strength or the laser-precision edges of their blades, though it could perhaps be a combination of both. Either way, it was like watching a performance rather than a battle, one that ended all too soon as the last machine fell into a dismantled heap.

"Devola, do you think we've gone far enough?"

The wild-maned girl, Devola, shrugged her shoulders carelessly, though she still raised her serrated sword in preparation.

"It doesn't look like anything will happen unless we take the first step, Popola. Might as well do it."

The straight-haired girl, Popola, gave a small sigh as she raised her sword, pointing it at the spot where John was peeking out from around a corner.

"You aren't doing a very good job of hiding."

The silence was deafening as John's heart began speeding up. For all that he thought that his skills might have gotten rusty, he didn't actually think that he would be discovered so soon. He had wanted to observe for a little longer before showing himself in a more ideal time and place. However, there was nothing that he could do about that now, and delaying this would only increase his suspiciousness in their eyes. He stepped out from around the corner with his hands in front of him, palms out and raised to face level. While it was a placating gesture, it would still give him enough time to reach down for the assault rifle that was hanging in front of his chest from the strap around his neck.

"Easy there. I'm coming out. Just here to talk, that's all."

Popola slowly lowered her blade, but Devola raised hers instead and pointed it at him.

"Yeah? Then talk."

"Devola!"

"What? We get enough idiots trying something stupid," Devola said before turning her gaze back to him. "Though, you're looking pretty roughed up."

"Are you hurt?" Popola asked with open concern in her voice.

It was only then that John remembered that his shirt and vest had a slit in them that was covered in stains that he couldn't wash out. He had worn and taken care of them for so long at this point that he didn't really pay much attention to the rips anymore, especially since he didn't have a way to mend them in the first place.

"Is that why you approached us?" Devola lowered her sword. "Need us to fix ya up?"

"Uh no, I'm fine. I'm not hurt anymore." John winced, having forgotten about that little detail. If the two actually took a closer look at him, they would find out that there was no sign of a wound and the clothes were stolen. Worse was if they noticed that the stains weren't exactly from human blood; he didn't want to risk being mistaken as an infiltrator unit. No, he definitely needed to stop them from examining it.

"Are you sure?" Popola took a step toward him.

"Very sure." John took a step back.

"Popola, just leave it," Devola said tiredly. "If the guy doesn't want it, why should we bother?"

"Because if it's not done properly…" Popola said softly as she looked anxiously at him.

Something inside of John seemed to unravel at her genuine concern. From the movies that he had seen to the stories that he had heard from his mother, he had been expecting scavengers or bandits. Well, maybe not fully to that level, but a few levels higher in paranoia than the rather tame distrust that Devola showed; something like that would be more in line with what he was expecting. However, Popola's kindness was something else entirely. For one, it couldn't be faked. The emotions in her words spoke to him—oddly enough—in a way that said that humans hadn't fully lost their humanity yet. Still, he couldn't allow his feelings to override his duty and judgment.

"Don't worry. I'm trained in first aid," John said with as friendly a smile as possible. "I just haven't had a change of clothes because it's been a long time since I have been back."

"Long-term assignment?"

"Something like that."
John watched them closely to see how they would respond to his vague statement. However, despite his expectations, he didn't notice any real changes in their expressions beyond the norm. It honestly made him feel a bit awkward to be so cautious, but a healthy dose of paranoia now would prevent a headache later.

"So what do ya want then?" Devola didn't seem happy, though it was understandable. Popola had an innate human kindness to her so it made sense for her sister to be more protective to compensate for her naivety. It wasn't exactly the most ideal position for him to be in, but he would just have to roll with it.

"Well, I noticed you came from the camp a few klicks back that way," he said. "Actually, where are my manners? My name's John."

"Devola," she said with a huff.

"Popola." Her twin followed up, looking at him almost expectantly.

"Well, nice to meet you, Devola, Popola," John said easily with a smile. He was making headway, but then he noticed the two girls staring at him strangely. "What's the matter?"

"You... haven't heard of us?"

There was something in the way that Popola said it that put John on edge, and it created a slight tension in the air. However, there was only one answer he could give since he couldn't really fake what he didn't know. Besides that, hesitating would be much worse; that could bring more suspiciousness to his credibility.

"Can't say that I have," John truthfully answered with a shrug. "I think I'd remember a pair of beautiful twins."

"Beautiful…?" Popola muttered out the word with a slightly confused expression, as if she was only vaguely recalling what it meant.

"Well, yeah." John was feeling slightly awkward. He had thrown out the word just matter-of-factly, never really expecting this kind of reaction so he wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"I feel like I heard someone say that to us before, but I can't quite remember," Devola said, her voice sounding a bit unsure of herself. She shook her head, as if to free herself from the errant thoughts. "Enough chit-chat. We've got a job to do so we'll be on our way. You should probably head to the base over that way. Probably could use some maintenance done on you and your gear, really."

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." John latched onto the opening that the girl unexpectedly provided him with.

"We're too bus—"

"We can talk," Popola said quickly, interrupting her sister.

"Popola…"

"Please."

"Fine." Devola gave out a practiced sigh, giving up rather easily for how obstinate she had been. She looked over at his gun. "You know how to use that?"

John was sure she meant to be insulting, but he smiled regardless. He was used to far worse.

"Good. We'll walk and talk, but if you can't keep up, we're leaving you behind."

"Fine with me."

~o~

Devola

~o~

Despite her warning, Devola wasn't planning to actually abandon him anytime soon.

Or any time at all, she thought grumpily.

It was more to get him to stop following them of his own volition, though she was starting to worry about his condition. It was obvious that the prolonged stress on his motor controls was limiting his speed; they had to slow down their pace and even let him take breaks just so that he could keep up. It was likely that his components had already reached far beyond the end of their life cycle, though it gave weight to his words about fixing it himself. Unlike her first thoughts that he was hiding his hatred for them, he actually genuinely seemed to have abstained from a screening check for a very long time, though that begged the reason why.

It was uncommon, but there were androids that accumulated so much trauma and quirks that not even their pseudo memories could stabilize them. Usually, these androids were given the choice whether to reformat or not, unless they prove a big liability. In those cases, they would either have to be reformatted or exiled themselves so they wouldn't be changed. However, even most exiles hated their model type. There were very few people that could look beyond their sins, though it seemed more like ignorance on his part more than anything else. If this android knew what they had done—no, what their counterpart had done—then he wouldn't be so friendly with them.

That friendliness had fueled Popola to ask to be allowed to perform maintenance on him several times doing this trip, but Devola honestly didn't think they would be able to do anything to help him beyond diagnosis and maintenance. He seemed like he needed a full overhaul with replacement parts rather than just simple repairs. If she had to guess, she would think—just from observation alone—that his motor cortex was too old and the artificial tension muscles in his legs had more than a few cords that were too worn out to be used anymore. There was also a good probability that his Maso converter was breaking down, which was why he needed to breathe a lot more to get the same amount of energy, though hopefully, his fusion reactor was still stable. Frankly, just from observing him, it seemed like he would need a full body replacement, though she doubted he would agree. It was more likely he would simply vanish on them if she pushed it further.

It wasn't like they hadn't encountered these kinds of androids before; the ones that wanted to keep their old parts for whatever reason and had thrown their kindness back into their faces. The twins had been hurt by too many androids to dwell on these people. Though, in her quiet moments, she did feel guilt and regret about those times, despite all logic and reasoning in her artificial brain telling her not to. Sometimes, it was hard to imagine how her sister could keep up her optimism and kindness.

"So, it might be a bit late, but where are we headed anyways?" John Connor—that stubborn android—was taking a break on some rubble in front of an empty storefront.

"You're only asking this now?" Devola quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I was busy trying to keep up." John grinned. "We can't all be in perfect shape like you two ladies."

"It's because we take care of ourselves that we're usually in peak conditions," Devola stated as if it was obvious, a hint of her annoyance leaking into her voice. "It's people like you who neglect their bodies that can't keep up."

"Hey! I'm not that old!" John replied with mock outrage and a chuckle. "I'm still in my prime!"

"Yes, and who's the one having a problem with keeping up?" Devola asked as she raised an eyebrow. Though, in all likelihood, she had probably been built far earlier than him.

"Thank you very much for keeping pace with me," John said with a sincere but cheeky smile.

"Forget it," she said with a huff.

John just smiled at both girls before he coughed lightly.

"So…about that question?"

"Oh, that." Devola gave out a noncommittal sound, as if she was wondering why she was humoring him in the first place.

"We have an assignment from Anemone to clear out a machine nest," Popola answered in her sister's place.

"A machine nest?"

"I know, rare in this area, but sometimes, they do migrate to here," Devola replied.

"Uhh...what is a machine nest?" John asked curiously.

"Having problems with your memory or something?" Devola sounded exasperated.

"More like unfamiliar with how things are around here. My information might be outdated in a way," John said cryptically.

"Definitely a memory problem..."

"It's a place where machine lifeforms gather, for one reason or another," Popola clarified, though she still shot John a look of concern. "They're usually not an issue, but if left unchecked, they could grow to become a threat to the Resistance base. It's best to wipe them out when they're smaller in numbers and easier to manage."

"You make it sound like it's an infestation."

"It wouldn't be wrong to call it that…"

"It wouldn't be right either," Devola said, cutting in. "Still, there's something I've been meaning to ask; where are you from anyway? You look like Resistance, but you don't seem to know too much about the area around here."

"From an underground facility, quite a bit of a way away from here actually," John explained. "Truth be told, it's been a while since I left so I'm not even sure if it's still there."

Popola looked sympathetic while Devola took in a deep breath and nodded.

It made sense. Laboratories and factories were primary targets for the machine army so if there were any places that would be hit, it would be these places.

"You're really not from around here, are you? Guess that explains why you look so lost." Devola's eyes flitted over to his gear. She looked at him from top to bottom. Upon closer inspection, they actually looked looser than what they should have been, making it seem baggy on him. "Where did you get those clothes? They look like Resistance issued."

"I met someone in a forest. He hooked me up with some spare gear," he replied. "Wasn't much of a talker, and we eventually went our separate ways. I was going to go to the base, but I met you two first."

"What did he look like? Maybe we know him."

"I don't quite remember, but he seemed rugged and pretty tough. Um, he wasn't in great shape though. Looked as if he had a rough go of things."

Oh..." Popola looked thoughtful, probably scanning through her internal databases. However, Devola knew that it was probably futile; there were at least a dozen in the base alone matching that vague description.

"I was just a bit hesitant to show my face, you know?" John continued. "What if they were the type to shoot strangers first? Then in came both of you who were definitely not dressed like them so I figured that I'd have a better chance with you two."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Popola said. "The base is composed of stragglers from different descent missions so there are people coming in every now and then. Anemone won't make too much of a fuss."

"I think you mentioned her before, but is she the leader of the base?"

"Yes, but don't worry. She's a lot more reasonable than most other camp leaders."

"I see…" There was a look of contemplation on his face. "You think she'd understand my situation?"

"Probably?" Popola hedged. "She's nice to us…even though we don't deserve it."

"Popola…" Devola looked stricken. "Don't…"

John remained silent as he looked between the two of them with a hint of curiosity and wariness in his eyes.

"T-there's something we need to tell you before we go further," Popola said, pushing through her sister's objection. "Please hear us out first, and then we'll answer any question you might have afterward. If you feel you want to leave at any time, we'll understand."

"Is it something relevant to the mission or the machine nest?" John asked.

"No, but—"

"Then you can tell me later."

"It's important!"

"But not to the mission at hand, right?" John asked seriously.

"Well, no."

"Then it can wait until after we're done, right?"

"B-but it involves everyone," Popola whispered as she looked down.

"Look, I'm a stranger here."

"Well, kind of. We're all—"

"But you don't know me, right?" John insisted.

"Yes, but—"

"Then it's as simple as that. We're strangers right now, but we'll probably get to know each other by the time we finish this mission so tell me then. I'll listen quietly over a hot cup of coffee."

"You really don't want to know now?" Devola asked skeptically.

"Look, all that is important to me right now is lending you two a hand." John's open expression and honest words took the two sisters by surprise. "If you still want to talk later, I promise that I'll listen without making any snap judgment. Sounds good?"

"You're an odd one…" Devola muttered under her breath.

John heard it though and laughed.

"Story of my life, but we're good now, right?"

Devola looked at Popola who nodded hesitantly.

"Then that settles it," John said decisively.

"You…" Devola was about to retort when her sister's eyes caught hers. Popola quietly shook her head, draining Devola of her urge to argue. Instead, she simply sighed. "Fine. Whatever."

"Then let's go clear out that machine nest."

~o~

John Connor

~o~

"What do you mean you don't have a communication unit?" Devola stared incredulously at John.

"Was it damaged?" Popola looked concerned, something that was becoming a bit too commonplace.

"Uh, probably…?" John replied hesitantly. He hadn't found any such device on the Terminator's body, but that made sense since it was an infiltrator unit. It probably hadn't gotten into the Resistance base, which was a good thing.

"Tch." Devola looked put upon. "I guess we should give you a complete overhaul when we get back to base."

John gave the feistier of the sisters a grin.

"Shouldn't you ask permission first?"

"Will you ever say yes?"

"You never know."

"Whatever. Still, to break one, just how careless can you be?" Devola fussed at John again, and he was beginning to think that was just how she showed that she cared.

"Pretty careless, I've been told." John had before when fighting the Legion. Countless times in fact that it was a bit distressing how often everyone thought he was dead when he dragged himself back to base.

"You stupid, little—!"

"Devola!" Popola urgently waved her hands in front of her sister. "Your voice. It's getting too loud."

Devola whirled on Popola and pointed at her imperiously.

"Your voice is loud too!"

"Both of you are being loud." John instinctively looked out the window. From the ninth floor, he could see the tall corporate-style building directly across, separated by a street that actually consisted of more than three lanes in each direction which probably made it a main roadway. That placed enough distance that he could see and react to anything coming from the place. Thankfully, there was nothing storming out of the building so it didn't seem like sound traveled that far out, though he would like to preferably not risk it.

"Anyways, here's the plan," Devola said, making sure to point her index finger at him. "You're going to stay here and cover us while we go in there and take out everything."

"That's your game plan?" John asked with a raised eyebrow. "Run in and hope you don't get shot up?"

"It hasn't failed us yet."

"'Yet' is the keyword."

"You got a better one?"

"How about we lure them out? We can put them down as they come out, and it'll be safer."

"That's a stupid pl—"

"That's a great plan!" Popola clapped her hands, causing the both of them to shut up, just so the straight-haired girl wouldn't make any more loud noises that could give away their position. "But it'll be a problem if some of them escape and come back later. Not to mention it might attract more from around the whole area. It's better to blitz them in this case."

Devola sent a smug look at him that, honestly, made him remember his age and not in a good way. Wait, was there even a way to think about it in a good way?

"Well, I know when I'm outnumbered. I give, I give." John held up his hands playfully in surrender. However, he just as quickly lowered them. "Still, if you both are planning to run in there, couldn't you at least do it in a safer way than the front door?"

"A safer way?" Popola asked curiously.

"Yeah, like…" John looked out the window again and then pointed to the building right next to the target structure. "I'm going to assume you're both in peak condition, right?"

Devola actually looked offended.

"We're one hundred percent at maximum efficiency right now."

John raised his arm in mock surrender. "Easy, tigress. I was just making sure."

Especially since he did see her get injured a few days ago, though he obviously couldn't mention that.

"Ti—"

"Anyway, how about this?" He drew a rough map in the dust that had accumulated on the floor. "You can jump onto the rooftop from an adjacent building."

John pointed at where he expected them to land. They were clearly more advanced humans, more than those in the Hamelin organization's projects. Not that it really was necessary since he could probably make the jump himself, though that meant that it should be child's play for the twins.

"How is that safer?" Devola asked with her arms crossed.

"Most of the defenses in there—if there are any—will be accounting for an assault from the ground level; they won't be expecting one from the top. Catching them with their pants down—metaphorically—would make it difficult for them to organize an effective defense and lead to a cleaner operation."

"That's…" Devola looked slightly grumpy. "Not bad, but what are you going to do?"

"I'll provide fire support if I see them through the windows. If they try to flee from the front doors, I'll be able to catch them too."

"You'll bring a lot of attention to yourself. They might ignore us and go after you instead."

"Well, that's why I got you two looking out for me, right?" John winked at the two stunned women.

"Fine," Devola said, though she didn't look happy about it. "Since you don't have a comm unit, if you get in trouble, scream loudly. We'll come as soon as we can."

"Knew you cared," he replied cheekily.

Of course, John wasn't planning on being dead weight or getting cornered. He felt like he had experienced enough that he could handle anything that came his way, and he wasn't about to rely solely on two young girls who should have been enjoying college life instead of war. Still, he realized that he was…outdated when it came to this new kind of war, and this time period and location weren't exactly something he was familiar with.

"Don't worry about me. You both have the harder job to do," he said to remind them. "I've got you covered."

"It's fine. We all got things we're good at," Devola simply replied before she started walking toward the stairway.

"Stay safe, John," Popola said as she quickly chased after her sister and down the stairs.

After watching them go, John took a deep breath before walking over to the wall right beside the window. Peeking out, he could see through the open windows of the target building and found that nothing was astir, though there were occasionally machines walking, waddling, or hopping past the many openings that made up the twelve floors building. It didn't take long before he spotted the twin red-headed girls far below, moving quickly across the street and into the neighboring building which had thirteen floors.

They moved through the rooms and hallways fast enough that they seemed to have a slight afterimage as they sped past a window. If he hadn't been paying close attention, they would have seemed like two red and white blurs. It was honestly somewhat awe-inspiring to see them move up floor by floor, only stopping very briefly to eliminate any machine lifeforms they encountered. Devola, sassing him despite the situation, stopped in front of a window and flashed him a thumbs up. He was tempted to roll his eyes, but there would probably be nobody to see him do so. Well, if there was somebody, that would be problematic in and of itself.

If John had voice comms, he would have told them that this was an operation, not a picnic. Alas, he settled for simply watching their prodigious progress through the building. It wasn't long—probably a few minutes at most—before they reached the top and kicked out the steel door to the roof, making John wince. That was probably loud, even though he couldn't hear it from here. Without even going to the edge first to survey the distance, they went off to a running start and leaped off the edge of the building.

John bit his lip when they landed with their feet on the target rooftop instead of rolling to bleed off the momentum and impact. He just hoped that they didn't break any bones from doing that insanely stupid maneuver. They might be enhanced humans, but they certainly weren't superheroes. Then again, would they even know what superheroes were? Kind of hard to imagine cartoons and comics surviving in this kind of world. Thankfully though, they rose to their feet and began moving without any noticeable limp.

The time-lost soldier raised his plasma rifle and placed the stock against his shoulder. He loosely aimed the weapon at the building, but toward no place in particular. As much as he wanted to start firing, his weapon was louder and brighter than the twins' assault which would alert the machines far too early. He needed to wait until they stirred up the hornet's nest before he could start firing and supporting them.

He watched as the two sliced open the stairway door on the rooftop and went down to the twelfth floor. While running, they slashed through a few robots whose severed parts flew past the open windows. After that, they quickly made their way down to the eleventh floor. It all seemed to be going well.

Of course, that was when things went to hell.

The window and a portion of the wall exploded outward, debris and rubble flying through the air along with Devola. Even with this sudden event, the wild-maned girl didn't hesitate; she twisted around in mid-air and stabbed her blade in a largely intact piece of wall. Holding on tight, she rode it down to the streets below where it crashed into the ground, shattering into pieces and flinging her off without her weapon. She landed on her side roughly, rolling across the lanes of the street as smaller pieces of rubble fell on her.

Looking up, John saw Popola running across the floor while being chased by something that was frankly double her size. Finding an unbarred window, she quickly changed directions and leaped out of it, and not a moment too soon as the wall and window were sliced—or rather, ripped—through from a slash by what seemed like a huge anchor.

Down below, Devola scrambled to her feet and ran forward. She leaped just in time, catching Popola out of the air a couple of moments before her sister could hit the ground. They hugged each other tightly as they fell into a rough roll with the straight-haired girl losing her own weapon in the process.

John looked up once again, bringing his rifle to bear. He watched the large machine lifeform appear before the window, the opening only big enough to give a glimpse of the robot's bulk. It must have agreed as it placed its hands—one on each side of the window pane—and widened it through force alone. The window and the wall beside it broke apart like clay until its metal grip, rendering cracks into even the walls of the floors above and below it. If it cared, it didn't show it as it leaned its massive body out of the new opening.

To describe the large machine was to give the description of a biker, or at least, an imitation of one. It wore a black leather jacket—the only piece of clothing it had—and had a Mohawk. A literal Mohawk that seemed to be made out of animal fur taped to the top of its bulbous head. The black jacket—if you could even call them that—seemed more like rags cut into that shape and dusted with coal, half of which were already beginning to smudge off. On the bare metal of its body, there were tattoos on almost every empty section, painted and sometimes even spray-painted, though the motif seemed to be random at best.

While there was a skull tattoo, it was right next to a spray-painted lawn mower and kitchen measuring cup as well as a cat paw made out of what looked like black marker. If there was any theme to it, he certainly couldn't figure it out. However, what was most intimidating was the red smile painted sloppily on its lips, the ends reaching up the cheeks and almost to the malevolent, crimson eyes. In its left hand was a rocket launcher, large enough that it seemed more likely to carry a ballistic missile than a rocket-propelled grenade. Held in its right hand was a huge anchor, sharpened almost ridiculously to a deadly edge and attached to a long length of chains that extended out of the massive backpack strapped to its back.

John stared incredulously as the large machine biker's glowing red eyes focused down on the two defenseless girls down below, having not spotted him.

"You gotta be kidding me."

~o~

A/N: Uhhhh hi.

Thanks once again, Vahn, for editing!

Ko-fi if you want to support my work. One day, there'll be something in there. Someday.